


Chantilly

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Pie Day, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris discovers Zach’s secret kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shards_of_divinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shards_of_divinity/gifts), [jouissant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/gifts).



> My entry for Pie Day 2015! 
> 
> Photos that inspired this story (NSFW): 
> 
> [HELLO](http://41.media.tumblr.com/9afe5808c02da0cbe8b93ea4126dc8fc/tumblr_nduplm1C0t1tmqkm3o1_400.jpg)
> 
> [ALL](http://40.media.tumblr.com/5dc5c7d10fe913ca5b6442c4c14cbb29/tumblr_mvu2x8JMbt1rr3gvpo1_1280.png)
> 
> [MY](http://40.media.tumblr.com/b83edcf3d57d21e4025109dc21b2f024/tumblr_nadenqZh1A1tf42vro1_500.jpg)
> 
> [KINKS](http://41.media.tumblr.com/8106eb8e9dab48122429845781bb5999/tumblr_n56slvLulY1tz5nn9o1_1280.jpg)

The first time it happens, it barely causes a blip on Chris’s radar; Zach is standing in front of his dresser when Chris enters the bedroom, on his way to the en suite. Zach pushes a drawer shut swiftly, and then Chris is out of the room. 

The second time, he’s looking intently at something on the bed. At Chris's entrance, he turns around abruptly and sits down, face frozen into a mask of intense interest in the television, on which a ShamWow infomercial is playing. Chris thinks nothing of it—he’s intent on finding his newsboy cap before heading out for a golf date with his dad, and he's already late. 

The third time involves laundry, and Chris finally puts it all together: Zach has a secret, and it’s a thing for women's underwear. 

Chris is in the midst of a rare burst of domestic fervor. Having cleared out his own closet and sorting through stuff to send to Goodwill, he decides to do Zach a favor by putting his laundry away. He's halfway through the basket when he lifts a stack of T-shirts up and spots a slip of _something_ , some bright spot of color. It nestles among the dark, unfolded socks like a rare fish, beautiful and exotic, hiding amidst rocks. Setting the shirts aside, he picks it up. It's a pair of lacy panties, fine and sheer, baby pink with a tiny satin bow at the center of the waistband.

Chris's eyes boggle, all thought for a moment suspended at the incongruity of the item. Why would Zach have women's underwear in among his laundry? Whose were they? How’d they get here?

It's then that Chris hears the front door slam shut. 

“Chris?” Zach calls. “I'm home!” 

There are footsteps over the ground floor as Zach apparently searches for him. “Up here!” Chris calls. He turns as the bedroom door swings wider, holds the panties off the tip of his forefinger.

Zach's face goes from animated and lively to completely blank in the space of a breath. “What are you doing?”

Chris effects a dramatic voice, “Whose are they? One of your little _whores?!_ ” He tosses his head for good measure, camping it up. 

“You know, I knew when we moved in together I'd give up some privacy,” Zach says coldly, “but I didn't think you'd snoop in my private things.” He strides forward and snatches them from Chris, holding them to his chest.

Chris's joking mood dissipates immediately. _Huh?_ “I thought I'd put your laundry away, do you a favor,” he says. “Baby, I _swear_...”

“So what, you've found this out about me, so now you can have a laugh at my expense?” Zach is actually shaking, face pale and lips pressed together in a tight line. 

“No! I was just trying to be nice!” Chris steps forward, a hand outstretched. “We don’t have to make this into a thing. So you like to wear women's panties. I can think of a lot worse things to find out about my boyfriend.”

They stare at each other for a minute, and Chris is relieved to see Zach begin to calm down. His posture relaxes and he drops his tensed arms, unclenching the fist that holds the panties to shake them out. “I _don't_ wear them,” he mutters as he steps over toward the bed and folds them carefully atop the t-shirts, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. 

“What do you do with them?

“I… like to look at them. And… and touch them,” Zach chokes out. He's not looking at Chris, and his face is now suffused with a deep flush that runs down his neck in uneven splotches. He runs his fingers over the lace and then pulls his hand back, self-conscious. 

“Yeah?” Chris approaches him carefully, until he's standing behind his shoulder. His throat has gone dry as he moves; he thinks he's taking a risk, but he also thinks he's reading Zach right. “Would you like to look at them…” he leans forward to look at Zach's face in profile, “…on me?” 

Zach closes his eyes. “Yes.”

\----

Chris stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. But for the panties, he is completely naked. Hell, _with the panties on_ , he is completely naked. 

They are, apparently, bikini panties, and as such there does not appear to be enough fabric in the front to contain his junk in a wholly respectable way. When he arranges it so his dick and balls are more or less centered, it just looks like some guy trying to knock over a convenience store wearing pantyhose over his face as a disguise. He would try to stretch them a little at the edges, but Zach seemed so careful with them, and Chris doesn’t want to ruin them. He settles for arranging his dick to the side, so that it nestles just beneath the elastic of the waistband. They barely hold him in place, but it looks marginally better. 

He twists around to get a view of the back. His ass looks pretty good in them, though one cheek or the other tends to peek out of the bottom. He supposes there’s nothing he can really do about that—it’s either look good in the front or the back, and he can’t have both. 

At least they’re not a thong. 

He pads over to the door and takes a deep breath. He’s not sure what Zach is expecting—or what he ought to expect himself. He pauses for a moment to brush his hair to the side so he looks neat and presentable, and opens the door.

Zach isn’t immediately visible when he emerges, so Chris advances reluctantly, as if expecting to be caught by someone or something. There is a short, intense intake of breath to his right and he turns. Zach is sitting up on the bed, his feet on the floor and his phone in his hands; he must have put the rest of his laundry away. His eyes run up and down Chris’s body. 

Chris stops about three feet away. Zach’s eyes finally stop roaming and fix themselves on the panties themselves, as well as what’s in them. Self-conscious, Chris works a toe into the thick fibers of the carpet. “You like it?” he finally asks.

Without speaking, Zach drops to his knees. He reaches out slowly and Chris steps nearer. Zach is mesmerized, lips slightly parted and moistened, breaths coming in short, rapid bursts. When Chris is close enough, Zach’s fingers rest on his hip, their tips caressing the contours of the lace. “I guess you like it,” Chris repeats.

Zach glances up at him hungrily before leaning forward to press his face against Chris’s crotch. Surprised, Chris sways backward a bit, and Zach grabs at his hips to steady him. Meanwhile, his mouth opens and he’s breathing over Chris’s shaft, puffs of warm air that begin to moisten the sheer material. 

The effect on Chris is immediate and his dick starts to fill. Zach presses open-mouthed kisses over its length. Chris moans, rests a hand on Zach’s shoulder. Zach pulls back and looks up at him, eyes dark with desire, lashes fanning out. Chris is so hard his dick strains at the light fabric that contains him, the head peeping out of the light elastic of the waistband. Zach notices and pulls the fabric up and over, tucking him back in. It won’t last long—the panties are just too skimpy—but in the meantime Chris’s dick lays against his hip, and he can feel his heart’s beat reflected in its throbbing. He caresses Zach’s cheek with his thumb, encouraging him. Zach leans back in, drags his lower teeth over Chris’s length, making him groan. The sensation is muted because of the fabric, hotter than Chris would have thought. He groans again.

The panties become drenched with a combination of precum and Zach’s saliva as he mouths at Chris, sucking his balls and dick through the fabric in turn. If he keeps it up, Chris is going to blow right here, so he eases him off with the hand still on his shoulder. “I’m about to shoot if you keep that up,” he warns. He leans down and kisses Zach. “What do you want?”

“Can you get on the bed?”

“Sure.”

Chris pulls the panties out of the crack of his ass as he makes his way over. He lies on his side, propped up on an elbow, legs crossed at the ankle as if it’s a natural pose. 

Zach undresses quickly and clumsily, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, and approaches the bed. He pauses with a knee on the edge, his eyes on Chris’s dick in the panties.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” Chris teases. 

Zach smiles, but he’s distracted. He surges forward, bearing Chris back so he’s lying flat on his back, and kisses him. His mouth is insistent, his body lacking the usual finesse and grace of movement Chris has always associated with Zach. Today he’s something different—urgent and clumsy, almost desperate. There’s too much teeth and not enough give, and Chris tries to balance it with gentle and encouraging caresses, lighter kisses when he can get them in.

Zach ruts against him, his dick rock-hard. Chris opens his thighs, reaches down and squeezes Zach’s ass, to slow him. Zach groans in his ear as their dicks finally connect and Zach goes back to it, increasing his pace. Soon the panties, which had barely contained Chris to begin with, have slipped down and Chris’s dick pops free. For a few moments they drag against each other, but Zach’s movements are uncoordinated.

“Hey, hey,” Chris says, palms flat on Zach’s back. “How ‘bout we switch this up?”

Zach closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah, OK.”

They switch positions, Zach lying on his back. Chris rests on his knees, straddling him. He tucks his dick back inside the sodden panties; the expression on Zach’s face tells him it’s the right move. He lowers himself down, hips lining up with Zach’s waist, rests his forearms on either side of his head, kisses him on the nose. 

“Is that good?”

“Yeah.”

Chris smiles. “Good.” He lowers himself further, until they’re chest-to-chest, maneuvers himself down. Zach’s dick lies between them and Chris reaches around to guide it down, so it rests between his thighs, against the soft silk of the panties. He closes his legs, trapping it. 

“Oh my god,” Zach breathes. He holds his breath.

“You like that?”

Zach nods.

“Can you breathe for me?” Zach nods again and takes a deep breath through his nose. “I’m not too heavy?” Zach shakes his head. “OK.” 

Chris lowers his head so his face nuzzles against Zach’s neck. He kisses the space behind his ear, mouths the plump lobe, and begins moving his hips. Zach groans and both hands clutch at Chris’s ass. 

“You like that baby?”

A sharp thrust of his hips upwards is Chris’s reply, and he laughs low into Zach’s ears. The feeling of the head of Zach’s cock rubbing along Chris’s taint is delicious; his asshole clenches with reflexive pleasure as his still-trapped dick rubs against Zach’s abs.

“You like the feel of that soft silk on your cock, huh?” Chris goes on. “Is the lace a little rough? Yeah? Your dick is so hard, so sensitive, I can tell. God, you’re so hot like this, completely undone. I love it.”

“You do?”

Chris nods. “You kidding? I wish I had a camera so you could see.” He pushes up a bit, kisses Zach on the mouth, takes his tongue and sucks. As he does, he flexes his thighs, squeezing Zach’s dick between them. Zach makes a strangled noise and thrusts. Chris flexes again, crossing his legs at the ankle for added leverage. Zach’s thrusts increase in speed though Chris has him completely trapped. He cries out, buries his face in Chris’s neck and arches up. Chris feels a spurt of hot come on the back of his thigh, then another. He clenches his thighs one last time, milking as much out of Zach as he can, holding him tight until he stills. Finally, he pushes up, sits back straddling Zach. The panties have slid down beneath his balls, and he takes his own dick in hand. Three strokes and he’s coming, painting Zach’s chest and face with thick streaks. Zach wipes a smear of it off the corner of his mouth and licks it. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds, panting heavily. They’re covered in come, and it’ll soon be gross, but Chris lies down beside Zach anyway and kisses him until they’re both calm. “Well, that was pretty hot,” he finally says, when it doesn’t seem as if Zach will say anything.

Zach nods.

“These things get stuck in your ass, though.” Chris laughs and reaches down to push the panties off roughly. They’re pretty much wrecked by now, so he’s less concerned with keeping them intact. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, that was hot as hell.”

“You really think so?”

“What, are you kidding? You were like a man possessed.”

“I’ve never done that before. Asked someone to wear them.”

“No?”

“I always thought it was too weird or something.” Zach looks down, clearly embarrassed.

“Well, it’s something, and that something is…” 

Zach looks up at him, a lick of uncertainty and fear in his eyes.

“…you,” Chris finishes. “Look, what turns you on is nothing to be ashamed of. I only wish you’d shared it with me sooner.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Of course not. I’ve done a lot worse than wear something special for a lover.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Never mind that.” He gets out of the bed and goes to the bathroom, cleans off as well as he can and returns to Zach with a warm washcloth. When he’s clean, he tosses it aside and Chris gets back into bed with him. They lie together, and for once Chris is the big spoon. He snuggles against Zach, entwining their hands.

After a time, Zach stirs. “So you’d really do that again? Wear ladies’ things?”

Chris smiles against Zach’s neck; after what they just did, the fact Zach can’t say ‘underwear’ or ‘panties’ or whatever is adorable. “Of course. They’re really soft and nice. I might even wax my junk again.” He kisses Zach’s ear. 

Zach grins. “Cool, because I saw these garters I really like. You’d look really good in them.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“They’re leather.”

“Do they do next day delivery?”

\----

Thank you for your time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prequel: Just what does Zach like to _do_ with the panties?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place about a month before Chapter 1. 
> 
> For Jouissant.

Zach enters the house wearily and drops his bags in the foyer with a grateful grunt. 

His trip hoe to L.A. was interminable, fraught with delays and other travel headaches, and it's already after 11:00 pm. To compound matters, the air hasn't kicked in at Chris's house—strike that: _their house_ —and he still has no clue how the thing works. It’s one of those damn home automation systems, and he supposes he ought to have adjusted it via the handy app Chris had made him install on his phone, but the thing had been stuck on Celsius since he installed it, and he didn’t feel like doing math in the limo.

He thinks he’s got the right combination of buttons down when the house’s alarm warns him it's about to go off. He's too far from the door now to get to the keypad in time, so he gives up on it. He answers the phone on the first ring, giving the attendant the key code to ensure the cops won't be sent over. Sighing, he switches on all the lights on his way to the kitchen, where he grabs a beer from the fridge that he chugs while standing over the sink.

He's alone in the house—Chris is off filming his latest in Austin—and Zach is still unfamiliar with the place. They'd moved in together just before Zach had gone to New Orleans for a week to shoot a guest shot on an ep of _American Horror Story_ , so he hadn't had the time to really settle in. The place doesn't feel like his home, not yet, even if it is homey and comfortable. He supposes it'll be better once he goes to pick up the dogs in the morning, and he has a chance to unpack the rest of his stuff and hang his art up. 

He returns to the fridge and opens it; the last thing he’d consumed was a packet of peanut M&Ms at the airport and he was starving. The fridge is nearly empty, but sitting in the middle of the top shelf is a plastic take-out bowl with a Post-it note affixed to it. It’s a kale and toasted quinoa salad—one of his favorites—and the note is from their housekeeper; Chris had asked her to pick it up for him so he'd have dinner when he got in. He feels a lump in his throat—it's a typically thoughtful gesture from Chris, but given his mood and the long day he’s had, it affects him. 

He grabs a fork and another beer and carries it all through to the TV room. plopping down on the couch to eat; the salad has blueberries and walnuts in it, so clearly Chris is being very thoughtful about his antioxidant levels. He unwinds and eats while watching an old episode of _Top Chef_ , and before long, he feels almost normal.

Zach cleans up and returns to the foyer to retrieve his bags, lugging them up the stairs to the bedroom to unpack. He pauses in the doorway of the darkened room and feels a pang. Chris will be gone for another two weeks, and he’s to make do here without him. The prospect isn’t nearly as lonely as he’s letting it make him feel—his brother has been clamoring to get together for weeks—but he still misses Chris like crazy. He strides into the room and switches on the bedside lamps, then hauls his larger suitcase onto the bench at the foot of the bed and unzips it.

Most of it is going to go into the laundry immediately, so he sorts it now, the whites and the darks and the colors into piles on the carpet. He’s got one of Chris’s white t-shirts in there, and he is pretty sure Chris didn’t notice it was gone, but he should wash it and put it back before he forgets. He pretended, while he was gone, that he’d grabbed the shirt by mistake, but he’d wanted something of Chris with him. Even now he fancies it smells like Chris, though he knows it’s impossible.

He grabs up the whites and is about to head for the laundry room when a flash of something pink among them captures his attention. “Oh,” he says, transferring the dirty clothes to his left arm and picking the item out, “what are you doing in there?” 

It’s his pair of pink, lacy panties, size 5, that are the sole pair he’s allowed himself to bring here. The rest of his collection is packed away with the furniture they’d decided didn’t fit, and the old clothes and Christmas decorations he’d put into storage. This pair was his favorite, the first he’d ever acquired, and he couldn’t bear to pack them away for safekeeping. 

His obsession with ladies’ things began the day Joe took him to his first midnight showing of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ when he was 13, and he’d popped a boner the moment Tim Curry appeared on screen. Joe had teased him unmercifully for days—convinced it had been Susan Sarandon in her bra and slip that had affected him so—and Zach had never had a reason to set him straight. But the sight of Dr. Frank N. Furter in his garter belt and bustier had nearly blown his young mind, and from that point on, the mere sight of women’s lingerie was enough to give him a chubby. And a man in them? Well.

He’d brought them with him to New Orleans, he tells himself, because he didn’t want Chris to find them. But Chris was gone too, so who was he fooling? Zach needs them like a child needs a security blanket; he realizes living with Chris means he’ll have less time and opportunities to indulge himself, but he deemed it worth it. And had kept the pink ones for just in case. 

Now the silken material sliding over and through his fingers is enough to get him hard. He moans, self-consciously, at the thought of them touching his skin. It occurs to him he’s home alone—not even the dogs are here to roll their eyes and pant at him disdainfully. He’s tired and keyed up at the same time, and two beers are not enough to put him to sleep.

With a thrill of excited anticipation, he runs to the laundry room and tosses the pile in, adds detergent and fabric softener, and starts the cycle. He returns to the bedroom and stares at the panties where he’s left them, spread out on the coverlet, satin bows shining dully in the low light. He drops a hand and palms the erection in his pants, pressing until it nearly hurts. He knows he won’t last long tonight—he hasn’t come since he and Chris were together the night before he left, and he hadn't had the energy to jerk off while down in New Orleans, so now his libido is cranked up to 11. 

He opens his pants and unceremoniously shoves them and his boxers down his legs, toeing off his sneakers as he steps out of them. He’s naked from the waist down—is that ridiculous? The a/c has long since kicked in, and the bedroom feels chilly. He gets on top of the bed and arranges the pillows at the head, sits against them and spreads his legs. 

He’s never been one for lube or anything when he jerks off—the result of too many furtive jackoff sessions under the covers while he was a camp counselor as a teenager, probably. A lick up the palm is all he needs. His dick is a familiar weight in his hand as he strokes himself. He rubs the panties on his face, down his throat to and back up again. Their cool smoothness is soothing and erotic at the same time. His dick surges in his hand and he eases up, but only a little. He holds the panties, suspended, over his jutting cock. He lowers his hand, lets the fabric tease the length of himself. He moans, “So gooood,” and closes his eyes. His dick twitches and he jacks it some more, reaching down with the hand holding the panties to cup his balls. 

The feeling of the silken panties against his scrotum is what sends him over the edge. His balls tighten and he moves his hand, catching the first, hot pulses of come within the pink, silken folds of fabric. 

By the time he’s finished, he realizes he’s sprawled over the bed, legs spread out, a now-soiled pair of panties in his hand. He brings them up to his face, lets his lips just barely touch the still-warm come, then pulls them away. He tosses them at the laundry pile on the floor, secure in the knowledge no one will spot them there before morning. He switches the lights off and pulls the edge of the coverlet up to cover himself, hunkering down into the pillows as drowsiness overtakes him.

He wishes he didn’t have to hide his affinity for this. As kinks go, it’s not the most shocking by any stretch of the imagination. But he’s never been able to share this aspect of himself with any of his lovers before, and he’s not about to start. He doesn’t think he can deal with the embarrassment he’ll feel if Chris were to find out. It’s a shame he can’t share absolutely everything about himself with Chris, but it’s a level of intimacy he’s never, ever achieved with anyone, and the very prospect of it is possibly the scariest thing he can think of. 

Maybe someday he’ll find someone who understands. But probably not.


End file.
